La Perriere is closed to cars and their likes. On Whitsun weekend, villagers open their homes and sheds to host artist and their works. The brass band plays a medley of marching tunes, music for the eyes of two dozens or so gawkers, country folks familiar with wind, rain and hailstones. Left alone in a corner, a doubble bass waits for the heavens to open up again, wash off the din, clear the streets for what is left of the arty crowd visiting from Paris.